A Day In The Life of Lucius Malfoy
by AddisonRae
Summary: In answer to the Shrieking Shack’s Challenge. A Day In The Life of Lucius Malfoy. From his point of view, a witty look into the wicked man's daily thoughts.
1. One

**Author: AddisonRae**

**Rating: PG13 (language)**

**Genre: humor, angst**

**Warnings: language, snarkyness**

**Wordcount: 589**

**Summary: In answer to the Shrieking Shack's Challenge. A Day In The Life of Lucius Malfoy.**

Today was absolutely the worst twelve hours I have ever had the agony of enduring. First, I am awoken by that godforsaken senile house elf, Skippy, or Zippy, or somewhat. And then, I am fed an _undercooked _meal of eggs and parmesan. Who in their bloody mind serves eggs and parmesan, undercooked, for breakfast? With no side dishes, might I add!

As I finish my disgustingly mediocre meal, and am ordering a bath to be run, my _son _waltzes into the room, and announces he has _finally _chosen a suitable bride. I, of course, am _thrilled _to hear this news, as I have only been badgering him about this same matter for _two years!_ I ask him to please share the name of the bride he has chosen.

HERMIONE BLOODY GRANGER!

Tell me, how the hell is Hermione Bloody Granger a suitable bride for my pureblooded son? How did that mudblooded little whore worm her way into this one? I am about to let out a spiel of curses that would render my son unable to reproduce for the next twenty years, when he calmly tells me, in the utmost obnoxious manner, that he _loves_ Miss Granger, and that he will marry her with or without my consent.

THE HELL HE WILL!

I, in return, calmly (although with a slightly menacing tone), inform my son that if he does indeed marry the mudblood, it will be without his dear fathers consent, and without his fortune. My son tells me that he has been offered a position with the Canterbury Canaries and that they have offered him a wealthy salary along with a fat signing bonus.

Leave my shithead of a son to chose the only team I can't control out-of-pocket.

What is the world coming to when the sole heir of one of the richest pureblooded families since the Cartiers decides to marry that of Hermione Bloody Fucking Granger, risking his entire fortune? There's something in the bloody water at that school, I tell you.

Speaking of that bloody school, after aforementioned discussion with son, I found myself in need of a painkiller, I felt a migraine coming. I went to see Severus and was told of another thorn in my side, Harry "The-Boy-Who-Refuses-To-Perish" Potter, who apparently, is betrothed to none other than Pansy Fucking Parkinson. _HELLO_! Does tradition mean nothing anymore?

After getting thoroughly pissed on headache potion, I stumbled out of the Floo, and into the biggest bloody mess I have ever seen. The kitchens. My damn manor looked like some natural disaster had decided to call for tea. I bloody well think _not_. After much screaming, now painless thanks to Severus, and many curses, the houseelves had the situation remedied and I was ready to settle in for a quick sleep before dinner.

Oh but how wrong I was.

You see, my foolish wife has got it into her head that her "childbearing" years are nearly spent. Therefore, she has purchased these ridiculous Muggle monitors that tell her when she is "_bobulating_" or some such nonsense, and when is the prime moment for conception.

That moment, of course, being in the middle of the worst bloody day of my life.

_Beautiful._

So, after an obligatory fuck and a quick sleep I was yet again awoken by a bumbling houseelf, to be led into my now spotless dining hall, and fed a much improved dinner. Then, to my annoyance, my left forearm twinges.

Followed by burning.

Which resulted in full-on agony.

It just never stops, does it?


	2. Two

BLOODY FUCKING FABULOUS!

Not only does the twit decide to marry the Granger bitch, they want a bloody _MUGGLE _ceremony. Muggle! For a Malfoy! Does it never fucking end? Of course, Narcissa is all for it. She thinks it will help us to "understand" the girl's "culture" Bloody women…ruining everything.

Severus owled me another bottle of option. I assume he's heard the news.

To make things better, my _darling_ wife is moping around the house. Apparently I am useless when it comes to reproduction, for I have yet to give her another child.

The miracles of contraceptive charms.

Thankfully, I am quite adept with them. It wouldn't do to have to deal with another bloody catastrophe of a wedding in twenty some-odd years. It wouldn't do to have Cissa knowing anything of Madam Rosmerta's finer abilities either. The _last_ thing I need is a bloody divorce hearing.

Of course, Draco insists on me actually attending the damn ceremony. And he wants me to be there to support Potter and that Parkinson cow as well. Fucking hell, that muggle bitch has taken over his bloody sanity.

After another dismal morning, I rid myself of the household and all of it's inhabitants, to make my way for the Ministry. After several hours and several thousand galleons, Draco's chances as a Quidditch Mongol were seriously in danger.

Thank Merlin some authority figures were born with no bloody backbone.

Feeling much improved, I made a slight detour to The Three Broomsticks.

I left the establishment in even better spirits.

I doubt Madam Rosemerta would ever dismiss my reproduction abilities. She has yet to complain. Then again, neither have I.

Upon returning to the manor, I find a letter on my desk in the study. The ominous demeanor of the owl forewarned me. It was from the Dark Lord.

_**I require your and Severus' services. Tomorrow at ten. Be prompt.**_

Bloody Hell.

A quick Floo to Severus reveals that he has also received the message, and that is he looking forward to the night about as much as I am.

I believe it is time to get thoroughly pissed.

Severus agrees, and comes through the flickering green flames. We confide in several bottles of Firewhiskey, as well as some sherry and a nice Champagne. I awaken the next morning to a pounding headache and the extreme urge to empty my stomach across the Persian rug. Of course, I spot the tiny black vial first.

Bless Severus, he knows me well.

After downing the potion I feel almost recovered, and begin towards the bathroom. A quick shower, and much dodging of Narcissa lead me into a night of….._activities_….with the Dark Lord.

Merlin help me.

I arrive at five till ten, look to my right and see Severus, also cloaked in black, nod once and slip a white mask over his face. The stench of blood fills the air around the Dark Lord's lair, and a sharp scream penetrates the silent night. It is quickly stifled.

Severus turned to me.

"Weasley."

Sure enough, as we enter the room, a shock of long auburn hair peeks out from under the bed. Tonight, we are in luck. The Dark Lord has already had his fun. He briefs us on future plans and we are dismissed after half an hour. He pulls Severus aside as I hastily leave the room. I wait momentarily in the corridor and he exits with the youngest Weasley in his arms.

It's the same as always, he will carry her back to the castle, revive her and treat her wounds, "_comfort_" her as only a dark brooding Potions Master can. Then, he sends her back to him, only to repeat the sick and twisted cycle.

It's getting rather old.


End file.
